


Guess How Much I Love You?

by starksparkcr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Dyslexia, Iron Man - Freeform, Iron-Dad, NOT STARKER - Freeform, Other, Peter Parker - Freeform, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Sad Peter Parker, Spider-Man - Freeform, Spidey-Son, Tony Stark Has A Heart, tony stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-24 07:31:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksparkcr/pseuds/starksparkcr
Summary: The one in which Tony has a cold and Peter has dyslexia





	Guess How Much I Love You?

**Author's Note:**

> “That used to be my favorite when I was little.” Peter eyed the book Tony has just taken off of the self, smiling softly to himself.  
> “Will you read it to me, Pete?”

    Tony was sick. Tony was sick, and his one request was for Peter to spend time with him. Peter wouldn’t dream of declining, given that he had made the same request with Tony a multitude of times before. Peter hadn’t had much experience in taking care of anyone when they were sick, but he had been taken care of  _many_ times before, so he didn’t figure it’d take that long to get the hang of. 

      Peter counted his steps as he walked from the elevator to Tony’s bedroom door. 

_27, 28, 29..._

He knocked before entering. 

    “Pete?” A raspy but unmistakable voice piped up, the voice of Tony Stark.

    “Yeah, yeah, it’s just me, Mr. Stark.”

     Peter opened the door as quietly as he could and walked into the dark room. Tony was lying in his bed, tissues surrounding him. Peter didn’t like seeing Tony like this; in a state of hurt that he couldn’t fix.

“C’mere.”

Tony patted the part of the bed beside of him that wasn’t covered in the tissues. 

     Before he knew what he was doing, Peter was already on the bed beside of his mentor. He timidly reached out a hand and put it on Tony’s forehead.

“Woah, Mr. Stark, you’re head is hot!” All Tony did was chuckle at his reaction.

“Yeah, kid, I’ve got what’s called a cold. And, your hand are freezing.” Even in the dark Peter could see the snarky gleam in Tony’s eyes.

“Ha, ha, ha, Mr. Stark. You’re  _soooo_ funny. I know what a cold is, I just didn’t think your head’d be hot,” Peter blushed at his own stupidity. “but do you need like- medicine?” Peter couldn’t keep up his sarcasm with the man looking so sick beside of him.

“‘m good, Pete, I already took medicine and my fever’s down. I just wanted to be with you.” Peter’s cheeks got redder.

     There was silence for a long moment before Peter piped up again.

      “Do you um- do you need anything else, though? Or want anything?”

Peter didn’t like just sitting in silence with the sick man.

“C’n you take me to the library, kid?” Peter climbed off of the bed and went to the other side to help Tony off of it. 

     They made their way to the library floor. Tony strolled along the long corridors of bookshelves. Peter followed closely behind, wanting to be there if the man collapsed. Tony began toward the children’s section, and Peter was unsure of two things at that moment: why the library had a children’s section, and why Tony was keen to sift through it. 

       Peter watched mesmerized as Tony scanned the shelf with his finger, finally pulling out a book. It was a small hardback book with two rabbits on the cover. Peter recognized it immediately. 

“That used to be my favorite when I was little.” Peter eyed the book Tony has just taken off of the shelf, smiling softly.

”Will you read it to me, Pete?”

      Peter felt his heart fall at this request. He felt embarrassed of himself. “Oh, um, sure Mr. Stark.” Peter replied, disappointing himself even more. The thing was, Peter loved reading. He loved books, and he loved getting them read to him. Peter didn’t like reading them out loud, though. 

     Dyslexia was a constant struggle in Peter’s life. He usually kept it a secret from new people if he could; it made him feel outright stupid. His dyslexia essentially made it to where he could read and connect letters, but he couldn’t comprehend what he was reading, so he’d do it again, 

and again,

and again,

and again,

until he could understand it. He couldn’t even help it most of the time. Not even when he was reading out loud. He also got similar looking letters confused sometimes, but only certain ones. b‘s, p’s, d’s, and q’s provide the most struggle for the boy, but e’s and c’s aren’t always easy to decipher either. When he read aloud, he couldn’t keep reading a word over and over until he could figure out what it said like he did on his own. His stuttering never helped it either, which is something else he did  _very_ often.

     All of his teachers are aware of his condition, and don’t call on him to read aloud in class, although he could easily share answers he came up with himself. They also give him a printed copy of the notes so he can take his time with them to understand. They don’t take off points if sometimes he writes a q instead of a p, and they work with him in private if he can’t understand an assignment (because he can’t conprehend things sometimes unless someone else reads it to him.)

     Mr. Stark, much to Peter’s dismay at the moment, was not enlightened on this little problem of his. So when they sat back down on Tony’s bed, with the lights now on, and Peter opened the book, he tried his damned hardest. 

“Go ahead, kiddo.” Mr. Stark said kindly, looking up at the kid on his right. 

“L-little Nutprown hare, who was, who was, who was,” Peter’s eyes filled with tears. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark.” He said as a he began sobbing. 

“Woah, woah, woah, hey, kiddo, you’re okay! You’re alright Peter. Whassa matter?” Tony asked, concerned for the kid beside him. 

“I-I have d-dyslexia, Mr. Sta-rk.” He choked out through his sobs. “I-I’m so stu-stupid!” Peter exclaimed. “I can’t, I can’t even read without mix-mixing up letters and- and reading things over and over! ‘M so sorry, Mr. Stark!” 

    Tony just looked at the kid in bewilderment. “Pete. Listen to me. You’re not stupid. Having dyslexia doesn’t make you stupid. You go to Midtown for crying out loud!” He felt bad for raising his voice, as it made Peter’s eyes water even more, (and it made Tony cough, but that was besides the point.)

Peter crawled closer to Tony and hugged him tightly. Tony was quick to return it. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel worse, Mr. Stark. I made it all about me when you’re the one whose sick!” Peter exclaimed obviously distressed over it. 

“Pete. _It’s okay._ I am always here for you to talk to, even if I’m on my god damn death bed. You should never feel bad for sharing your problems, you hear me? It doesn’t make you weak, or stupid, or worthless, or any of the other bad things that I _know_ are swimming around in that big brain of yours. It makes you brave, and ultimately happier. I’m glad you shared it with me, kiddo. Now I can’t talk very loud, but how about I read it to you? ‘Know my voice is all raspy and stuffy, but it’s not that bad is it?”

It was the first time Peter hadn’t been ridiculed, or treated like he was incapabale by someone, which was always the case when he told people about his problem. Peter faced the man and smiled.

“Nah, Mr. Stark. It’s alright.” Peter felt himself calming down. “ _Thank you._ And that would be great if you feel up to reading it to me?” The last part came out as a question, and Peter supposed it kind of was. 

“Of course I will, Pete.”

So Tony began reading, and Peter began crying silent tears at the sweet book. 

“‘I love you right up to the moon’” Tony read, and his voice faltered a bit as he repeated it so softly that Peter was sure the only way he could hear it was because of his Spidey Senses. “‘I love you right up to the moon.’”

Peter turned his face to the man and saw that he had tears in his eyes. 

“Mr. Stark?”

”Yeah, kiddo?”

”Are you okay”

”Yeah, kiddo.”

Tony continued reading for a few seconds, “‘Oh, that’s far-“ but Peter interrupted him. 

“Mr. Stark?”

”Yeah, kiddo?”

”I love you right up to the moon.”

Tony let out a half sob, half chuckle, before he looked at the young teenager beside of him. 

“I love you too, Pete. Never forget it. Please.”  Tony sniffed loudly, and Peter couldn’t tell if it was from his cold or from crying, but Peter didn’t care. He curled up next to the older man and tucked up into himself like a child. Tony ran his fingers through Peter’s curls for a minute before leaning down and kissing his forehead. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn off the lights.” Tony said aloud, and the lights did just that. 

“Goodnight, Underoos.”

”Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

Tony had never slept better in his life. 


End file.
